


Vultuous

by Bazylia_de_Grean



Series: Rare Talent and Intellect [6]
Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: F/M, Lady Webb/Thaos (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 13:46:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14916486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bazylia_de_Grean/pseuds/Bazylia_de_Grean
Summary: Her husband does not laugh much – and when he does, it is quiet, just a soft chuckle – and then she is grateful it is such a rare occurrence, because it brings back memories, ones she has to bury very deep all over again each time. She wonders, then, if he can read her well enough to notice that.





	Vultuous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Star_Miya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_Miya/gifts).



> (A prompt from the lost words promp set; thrown at me by Miya: "Lady Webb + vultuous". Vultuous: having a sad or solemn countenance.)

She often hears whispers and thoughts of jealous ladies, calling her husband handsome. But so grim, they usually add, and while some find that appealing, others quickly go from envy to compassion, comforting themselves by thinking that at least their spouses have a sense of humour.

Her husband does, too. He does not laugh much – and when he does, it is quiet, just a soft chuckle – and then she is grateful it is such a rare occurrence, because it brings back memories, ones she has to bury very deep all over again each time. She wonders, then, if he can read her well enough to notice that.

Aldus smiles so rarely because he knows the inner workings of the world, recognizes all the falsehood and games because in his honesty he doesn’t play any. And yet, despite being aware what is hiding behind the facade, he can still find it in himself to be kind. Not only to keep up appearances, not only because etiquette demands it; he actually cares.

There is not an ounce of naivety in him, and he has no delusions that the world might repay or reward his good deeds, and still he adamantly chooses to care and make things his business. His face and voice are solemn, and his eyes are pale and seem cold, and he is a reasonable person, with a mind precise like intricate clockwork. But beneath all that, there is the warmest heart she has ever sensed – seen – so pure it would be invisible like glass if not for the brightness of his soul that fills it.

Sometimes, Eydis wonders why did he even lay eyes on her. Not for wealth, because he has enough of his own; not for beauty, because he remembers it is only superficial and fleeting. And he guessed – knew – he heard the rumours and drew his own conclusions – more correct that she would have expected – and still he reached out and offered his hand when she needed it most, offered to help her find purpose.

He has kept his promise. He lets her do as she pleases, but never withholds advice if he thinks someone should talk some sense into her. Tries not to judge. Supports her endeavours without questions – those he asks later, in private, never demanding the answers she is reluctant to give.

Eydis does not love him, but there is fondness and deep respect – and something akin to admiration. She can read his mind – could; she rarely does – she can peer into his soul, and still she cannot comprehend how did he manage to make it so far with his goodness intact, why did he marry her, why... She never asks, out of fear he would think less of her. She has never thought a husband’s opinion would matter to her so much. But then she met him and looked into his eyes – into his mind and soul, which he left wide open for her – and knew she would never measure up to whatever ideal of a wife he imagined.

It seems he is more forgiving to the world than to himself, and does not hold others to such impossible – _almost_ impossible – standards. Unlike her, he does not have cipher skills and cannot glimpse her soul – all the better – but he heard the rumours and he can read people like books, and he guesses and knows anyway.

And yet here they are, in their tenth year of a surprisingly happy marriage. Eydis does not love him, but she appreciates many things about him, and makes sure he knows that. And he _does_ love her – it is not a hopeless infatuation, it is not a blind yearning; no, it is a sentiment born of honesty. He made a conscious decision, he has seen her for what she is from the beginning, and despite that, he loves her. It is no grand romance fable, but a steady, everyday feeling, so uncommon in how down-to-earth and ordinary it is. It is the only kind of commitment she can agree to.

He loves her and they have become friends, and he is glad they are married. But he seldom smiles. Eydis wonders if that might be because he had to accept that a part of her will always belong to another.

She will not give even a grain of thoughts more, not if she can help it – with enough effort, she can. But that part is made of memories, and there is nothing she can do about it, because it was taken from her years ago.

Eydis looks at her husband and tries to forget how willingly she gave it away.


End file.
